


Extensive Guide for How to Deal with Your Time Traveling Crush

by decomposing_brain



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: 1900s Bucky, Angst and Humor, Clint Barton & Natasha Romanov Friendship, Clint Barton-centric, Clint is confused and horny, Crack, Deaf Clint Barton, Fluff, Jealous Bucky Barnes, Lots and lots of misunderstandings, M/M, Misunderstandings, clint has absolutely no self worth, everyone is awful at communication
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-28
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:13:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25563406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/decomposing_brain/pseuds/decomposing_brain
Summary: Clint scrambled into a sitting position. Blinking the bleariness out of his eyes he looked around his still dark room. One hand was searching quietly under his pillow, looking for the knife he kept stashed there before he paused. The blue light was replaced by moonlight, shining ominously on the figure in front of him as Clint’s eyes finally adjusted to the night. What the fuck was right. Standing in his room was Bucky Barnes. Fresh out of 1942, still in his army fatigues with both arms Bucky Barnes. So much for relaxing that leg of his.OrSome asshole opens a time portal and sends James Buchannon Barnes, who is in the midst of fighting a world war, about a hundred years into the future where Clint is nursing a broken ankle and a broken heart, and present Bucky hates his old flirty self a whole lot.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Clint Barton, James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton, Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 15
Kudos: 186





	1. Chapter 1

So here’s the thing. Clint really wished he hadn’t broken his ankle. Again.

It was during a mission in one of those not at all rare times when all hell had broken loose. There were aliens and a lot of explosions and yeah, you know the drill. Safe to say it was insanity. And sure, Clint might have jumped off a building but he really didn't think that was reason enough for his team to give him the lecture of a lifetime on the ride home and for some reason, Bucky didn't seem to want to stop once they reached Stark Towers. No, he spent the rest of the evening cursing Clint out and shoving him into a hospital bed. All in all it was a little annoying because it wasn’t like Clint didn’t know how much he had screwed up, but Clint was too tired to even try to pretend that he wasn’t exhausted. So he let them put him in a cast, and bundle him up for the night while a nurse and a seriously pissed off ex assassin loomed over him. And then it was all ‘you better stay off you feet or so help me’ and ‘either the tower or your apartment Barton, and yes there will be full time surveillance on you.’ So, begrudgingly he opted to get holed up in his apartment, because as much as he loved his team, there was no way he was going to let them guilt trip him into actually listening for the next three weeks. Not that the seven miles and forty minutes of traffic would keep them from doing much else anyways of course.

He had spent the first two days sitting in his apartment, bored out of his goddamn mind watching dog cops. Reruns. Because they couldn’t even play the new shit on cable for him. And he was definitely not going anywhere but his old ass couch because Tony had actually kept his word and installed honest to god cameras in there. 

And then, as if things weren’t already bad enough, Bucky had made the very executive decision that he would be the one watching over Clint to make sure he didn’t do something stupider, like break his other ankle. Clint was about to lose it if he had one more eyeful of that dumb grumpy face that made him feel bad when he didn’t eat the home cooked meal the fucking winter soldier had made. He had hoped the distance, and the fact that he wasn’t actually at the tower right now, and Bucky’s absolute abhorrence over the idea of leaving the tower for longer than he had to would be enough to quell this dumb little crush Clint had developed. But no. Bucky was over almost every other night, angry cooking, with his hair in a bun and his dumb hotness getting all over the place. And then for some unknown reason he would stay. He would watch dog cops with Clint and sometimes if Clint was really unlucky he would fall asleep right next to Clint with his head unknowingly resting gently on Clint’s shoulder. It was driving Clint insane, and Clint was fairly certain he was inadvertently taking advantage of the other man because he was too damn nice for his own good. So yeah. Clint really wished he hadn’t broken his ankle.

The whole crush thing had come to a head about a month ago. Bucky had been in the tower for a while, sulking in the background and acting like a pissed off cat who got his rocks off knocking over glasses and growling at people. They had gone through some similar shit, and although Clint had to admit that his days had nothing on Bucky’s years, it was nice to know that someone else in the tower understood. They would run into each other at odd hours, nighttime when sleep would escape them, or in the training room when they just wanted to try to outrun their thoughts. They were two men on the verge of a breakdown, and it had always been easy to spot someone falling apart when you were already doing the same exact thing.

To most people’s surprise, and especially Steve’s, the two started hanging out together. They would sit on the roof in silence for a while until finally one of them just started spilling secrets. At one point Clint started feeling like Bucky was his closest friend. That he knew more about Clint than anyone else.

That was when his own dumb self had to go and start catching feelings for the guy. 

They were sitting on the couch trying to throw popcorn into each others mouths. Laying lengthwise, Clint’s legs were stretched out on top of Bucky’s, bracing his torso. It was an off day for the team. The two had done little else but sit around and do absolutely nothing, Clint hadn’t even changed out of the sweats he had worn to bed. That was when Steve walked in. Clint being the smartass attention seeking whore he was turned his sights to good old Captain America. As soon as Steve rounded the corner, and opened his mouth to no doubt ask them some variation of ‘how are you doing today, do you need anything Buck?' A piece of popcorn was being propelled toward him, leaving him choking and flipping Clint off.

Bucky cackled, honest to god cackled, spraying popcorn kernels all over Clint’s sweats and said, “its what you deserve for never keeping your mouth shut you old fucker,” all the while chewing a mouthful and giving Clint a mischievously beautiful smile. They were gross and sweaty and lazy as hell and both being utter assholes qnd of course that was when Clint found out he fucking loved Bucky Barnes. 1970s, WW2 fighting, winter soldier with a bionic metal arm James Buchannan Barnes. Wasn’t that just perfect.

Clint didn’t know what else to do so he just started getting weird. Really fucking weird. Like weird with a capital W, weird like the serial killer stalked from 'You', weird like I don't understand my own feelings weird. If Clint was being honest with himself It probably wasn't the best way he could have handled things. When Bucky would walk into a room Clint would walk right out of it. When Bucky said something a little too funny Clint would smother his laugh and choke on a sip of water instead. When Clint’s hand would accidentally brush Bucky’s he would jump five feet away and squeak like a little girl. There was no more video games or late night chats. It was great being an emotionally constipated scared as fuck guy in love with someone literal decades out of his league.

Clint is pretty sure Bucky figured it out somewhere along the line. There was one incident where Clint downright ran out of the room, red faced when Bucky had simply asked him to pour him a cup of coffee too. The 'coffee incident' as Clint had dubbed it had probably put a huge neon sign over his own head blinking with the words 'this idiot has a big dumb crush on you'. After that, Barnes started putting some space between the two of them too. Clint could practically feel the shift. Bucky had to know that Clint was ridiculously head over heels for him and there was no doubt that Bucky was freaked out. After all you didn’t come from the 1900s ready to propel yourself into a relationship with the nearest trash fire of a man you could find. 

For a while after that Steve started looking at Clint all sad and a little disgusted like he was pitying the fact that Clint was just such a fuck up and how in the hell did he ever think he had a chance with Bucky. Bucky’s weird surprise turned into anger, and then resignation and they ended up in this oddly stilted, cordial relationship. Bucky would jerk back just as quickly as Clint when they got too close, but they could stand to be in the same room together. Not quite friends but not quite enemies, and just nice enough to tolerate each other, which Clint felt like he deserved because Bucky just existing didn’t warrant his own human disaster self falling in love with the ex soldier. Clint had fully fucked that friendship right down the non refundable drain with his dumb emotions.

Then Clint broke his ankle and Bucky was there cursing him out for fucking up and then maybe Bucky felt bad about that or really wanted to play with Clint's feelings, or maybe he just figured that he might as well try and get Clint better so they could have one more body fighting out on the field because he started making Clint soup and baking bread in his apartment and forcing ibuprofen own his throat. This quite honestly was starting to turn out to be worse than the uneasy tension in the tower. It was only making it harder for Clint to stop himself from planting one on Bucky right then and there. 

It was weird to have Bucky, for lack of a better word, doting on Clint. It was even weirder that Bucky had voluntarily done this. Not that it was completely unwelcome but he couldn’t help but hate the fact that Bucky was here despite how much he loved having him around. Especially because Bucky was so obviously doing this out of pity. It was a slippery slope Clint was treading on. So that was what made it so much harder when Bucky looked over at him in the middle of an episode of Dog Cops and started talking. Not just about anything either. 

“Clint about, everything-”

“It’s okay Bucky.” Clint cut him off, refusing to look at the man in front of him, “I get it.” Because he did. He understood why it was bad for his own dumb self to fall in love with someone who didn’t want him back. He knew that it was fucked up to do that when all the poor guy wanted was a friend and he got that Bucky was probably looking for something better, that he deserved something better. It made sense. 

“Yeah.” Bucky sounded ridiculously sad, like he felt awful that he had to be such an amazing person that Clint just couldn’t not fall in love with him. Clint didn’t know what to do with his hands. “I’m okay with just being friends Clint.” And alright. Not what Clint expected when this conversation started but friends. He could do friends if it meant he didn’t loose Bucky. Anything was better than just pretending the other person didn’t exist, “I thought we were- I thought I was doing okay at that.” Ouch. Here Bucky was practically putting this on his own self because of the pity-fest that is one Clint Barton. He couldn’t believe he was practically getting an apology for his own messed up way that his brain worked. 

“You were. Bucky this is on me.” They both knew it too. Bucky was just too good of a guy to say otherwise but Clint would take what he could get. “I’m okay with being friends too.” 

It was silent for a beat. Neither of them saw the dejected look on the others face. 

“You don’t have to keep doing this you know.” Clint gestured around the apartment, “I’m fine on my own.” It was a perfectly good way out. Bucky didn’t have to keep feeling bad for the archer with the horrible self preservation skills and broken heart. 

Bucky laughed but it almost sounded painful, “Yeah right Barton, like you know how to even make eggs,” and then, “you really want me to go?”

Clint looked around at his apartment and smelled the food Bucky was cooking and thought about all the hard ons he had sported from Bucky wearing a goddamn apron everywhere. He thought about how awkward it could become and how much it hurt him for Bucky to be here but for some reason he wanted nothing less than for Bucky to leave. After all they did just agree they could be friends. Clint could do it. He could swallow his emotions and be respectable enough to be Bucky's friend. 

“No,” Clint sighed, allowing himself to be selfish one more time, “at least stay one more night.” After tonight he promised himself. After tonight he would forget about his feelings for Bucky. He would move on. 

Or at least he thought he would until some motherfucker decided to open a time portal.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So Clint meets Bucky, and Bucky meets Bucky?

Clint had fallen asleep in his bed after Bucky had practically forced him into it. He had caught the archer nodding off on the couch and with the argument that he would sleep better in his own bed than on the couch Bucky had half carried half walked him to the comfort of his own room. The haze of exhaustion was overwhelming. Before he passed out he swore he had felt Bucky gently pulling his hearing aids out of his ears. It would be sweet if he didn’t know Bucky was doing it just to avoid listening to Clint complain tomorrow morning.

Not more than three hours later he was woken up by his bed literally shaking underneath him. An obnoxious blue light lit up his room followed by a very distinct “What the fuck?” Leave it to fate to interrupt one of the best nights of sleep he had had in a while. 

Clint scrambled into a sitting position. Blinking the bleariness out of his eyes he looked around his still dark room. One hand was searching quietly under his pillow, looking for the knife he kept stashed there before he paused. The blue light was replaced by moonlight, shining ominously on the figure as Clint’s eyes finally adjusted to the night. What the fuck was right. Standing in his room was Bucky Barnes. Fresh out of 1942, still in his army fatigues with both arms Bucky Barnes. So much for relaxing that leg of his.  
Clint reached out and patted his bedside table before hitting his hearing aids. He fumbled, switching them on and shoving them in his ears.

“Bucky?” Clint breathed out in disbelief.

“Uh,” Bucky’s copy said looking down at his hands and then up at Clint, bewildered, “hi?” Clint blanched. 

“Bucky?” Clint asked again, now attempting to untangle himself and his still injured legs from his bed sheets.

“Yeah?” The Bucky doppelgänger looked Clint up and down, and Clint could have sworn his eyes caught on his bare chest, “who the fuck are you?”

It was at that moment that Clint gracelessly tumbled to the ground, catching himself on his hands with his feet still covered in blankets. In seconds another, more frantic Bucky joined them, the real Bucky who had red lines on his face from the couch and sleep muddled eyes. His hair was everywhere and there was a knife in his hand. Clint thought he was adorable, minus you know the whole serial killer vibe. Ok who was he kidding, the serial killer vibe was adorable too, “Clint are you-“ Bucky started to ask. 

Clint figured by then he had probably spotted his mirror image, and it was maybe just a bit weirder for Bucky than it was for Clint because what followed next was yet another very vocal “what the fuck?” There were two Buckys in Clint’s bedroom now. And they were both two very confused, very hot Buckys. Clint was wrong when he had thought his situation couldn’t get any worse. Or better depending on who you asked.

“What’s going on? Who are you?” Bucky asked, eyeing Barnes who was taking in ‘other him’s’ metal arm and the knife and reaching for the gun in his holster. A good old fashioned Mexican standoff, but with the very apparent twist of the two actually being the same person. Clint could not catch a fucking break. 

“Isn’t it kinda obvious?” this Barnes was all sass and snark. He stood nonchalantly like a complete asshole and Clint was practically sweating now, “I’m you,” Clint snorted and real Bucky shot him one of his murder glares. 

“Why are you- why am I, here?” Bucky continued only this time his voice was more threatening, like he wouldn’t put up with the shit old him used to pull. Clint wanted to laugh again because wasn’t that kind of ironic. “Your guess is as good as mine pal.” Barnes shifted.

“I’m not your pal.” Bucky growled out too quickly, and the finger Barnes had on his trigger twitched a little too hard for Clint’s liking. Clint didn’t want this to escalate into something neither of them could go back from and so he broke the tension.

“Guys as much as I love this weird competition of who’s the scarier Bucky why don’t we just take a breather and put away our weapons so we don’t accidentally kill… well, ourselves,” 

Both of them hesitated but Barnes was surprisingly the one who reacted first. Here was this man who barely knew Clint and he was listening, trusting him. This was Bucky before all the shit. Bucky when he had the luxury of trust. Something sharp shot painfully through Clint’s chest. 

With the weapons sheathed, Bucky, for the first time took in more than the immediate threat, running his eyes up and down his doppelgänger. “you’re wearing your uniform.” Barnes nodded. Clint swore he saw him roll his eyes too. Bucky did tend to state the obvious.

“I was out in the field when all this,” Barnes gestured to Clint’s room, “happened. There was this huge flash of light and suddenly I was here and he-”

“Clint” Clint added helpfully from the floor.

“Clint was falling out of his bed.”

“Yeah get used to it.” Bucky grumbled finally turning a fraction of attention onto Clint, “kid has two left feet.” 

“Hey-“ 

“So what, it was about 1940 then?” Bucky cut Clint off. Sure, let the grown ups talk. Clint was still struggling with the bedding around his legs until finally Bucky took pity on him, walking over and yanking him onto the bed by his armpits. It was only a little bit humiliating to be honest. Barnes watched, eyes going panicky.

“Yeah.” It was as if something had hit Barnes in the gut. Like he hadn’t even thought of the reality of the timeline before then because suddenly, urgently he asked, “why, what year is it now?”

“2015.” 

“Fuck.”

“yeah. Fuck.” Bucky looked like he wanted to say something else but then thought better, “I’m calling Stark.” He turned to leave, going to grab his phone before stopping like he forgot something. He stalked towards Barnes. “Gun.” He said holding out a hand. Barnes looked towards Clint. “Don’t make me ask again,” Clint didn’t know what to do so he opted for nodding gently, looking at Barnes with the most open, friendly expression he could make. Reluctantly, Barnes handed over his gun to Bucky who tossed the gun to Clint.

“I’ll be back.” Bucky explained to Clint and then pointedly looked at Barnes, “you. Don’t fucking move. Don’t try anything. He might not look like it right now but he,” Bucky pointed at Clint, “is one of the deadliest men I’ve ever met.” Bucky leaned in close and Clint just barely caught what he said next, “you touch him and I’ll kill you.” Harsh exit, Clint thought, but when had Bucky ever done anything without scaring the shit out of someone first.

“Hey,” Clint called, hoping to lighten up the mood, words inevitably falling on deaf ears, or ears that just didn’t want to listen, “what’d you mean I don’t look like it right now?” He could practically feel Bucky flipping him off from the other room, but the only response he got was from Barnes.

“For the record I think you look plenty deadly,” 

“Thanks army Bucky,” Clint appraised taking in the lack of worry lines on past Bucky’s face. 

“Army Bucky?” Something in Barnes tone had shifted and now he was looking at Clint with a smirk, not at all like he thought Clint was deadly but Clint guessed he was okay with that because he wasn’t really trying to threaten him. Bucky did that well enough for the both of them, “C’mon there’s so many better options.”

“What like Bucky minus the murder glare?”

“Murder glare?” Barnes laughed. It reminded Clint of the laugh he would only experience when Bucky was really happy, when he felt light and hadn’t been having nightmares. It made Clint feel like he was on fire, “I was thinking more like, ‘the hotter Bucky’” and yeah, Barnes had just winked. Like actually winked at Clint. What the fuck was starting to become Clint’s mantra of the night. Barnes cleared his throat, scraping a hand over his hair that was short and perfectly styled, “I mean c’mon does the guy own a pair of scissors?” It was strange how different the two Bucky’s were from each other. 

“Eh. I think he- you- I guess? Can pull off most hairstyles,” Clint stumbled a little over his words. This was Bucky, he told himself. The same guy he had known and fallen in love with over the past six months. Just younger and, flirtier. Yeah, this was potentially going to be a problem.

“You think?” Barnes took a step forward, looking almost predatory. Clint felt like he was going to be eaten alive.

Clint swallowed heavily, he could hear Bucky in the other room arguing with someone on the phone, “Yeah.” 

The door hit the back of the wall, and the two jumped, “I thought I told you not to fucking move?” Bucky was now standing in the doorway, phone in his limp hand, as he glared at Barnes. He moved over to Clint and stood between him and Barnes and spotted the gun laying at the bed that Clint hadn’t even moved to pick up. He squinted at Clint who shrugged lightly. 

Barnes watched them quietly, all rapt attention and wondering glances. “What did Tony say?” Clint asked.

Bucky glanced warily at Barnes, hesitating a little before he spoke, “he’s sending Steve over on the jet,” 

“Steve’s here?” Barnes questioned but Bucky continued over him.

“They wanna take us to the tower, run some tests. He says he thinks someone opened some sort of time portal, some weird shit was spiking on his radar. I-past me got taken from his timeline and spit into this one.”

“You mean time travel exists?” Poor Barnes. He really was being thrown for a loop.

“Time travel and a whole lot of other shit buddy.” Clint explained who had taken to fiddling with the gun now in his lap, pulling it apart and putting it back together to soothe his nerves and undeniably growing sexual attraction to not one but two people in the room.

“Ok.” Barnes seemed to accept that and stood there, processing. Clint was impressed. He probably would have been on his third mental breakdown by now but past Bucky seemed incredibly alright given the fact that he had just been sent forward in time by a decade. He even seemed to be taking this better than present Bucky was, who still had his previously mentioned murder glare painted on, “So. What do I do in this timeline?”

Clint decided to jump in, saving Barnes from yet another potentially terrifying response from mr. ‘I am a teenage girl and I’m going to throw a fit for no good reason’,“We fight bad guys together. Us, and Steve too, and a couple other guys- plus well some badass girls.”

Barnes smiled, a look of soft approval being sent towards present Bucky who didn’t seem to know how to deal with that sort of reaction, “Huh. Sounds like not much changed,” Clint thought about Agent Carter and Bucky and Steve back in the war and then he thought of Hydra and the Winter Soldier. He kept his mouth shut. It looked like Bucky was thinking the same thing. No use spilling things Barnes didn’t need to know yet. 

Their brief conversation was cut short by a ding on Bucky’s phone. 

“Rides here.” Bucky looked up at Clint, “you coming?” Clint nodded in response. He might not have wanted to be at the tower before but he sure as hell didn’t want to miss this. Besides it was the first action he would have in weeks because as much as he though he would never admit it playing mariokart for ten straight hours was starting to get boring. 

“What’s that?” Barnes asked gesturing curiously to the phone in Bucky’s hand. Bucky looked ready to shoot someone.

“Phone.”

“It’s so- small.”

“Welcome to the 21st century.” Clint said, grabbing the crutches at the end of his bed starting to hobble toward the door. 

Bucky’s eyes were sharp on Clint’s form, “Enough small talk,” his voice was gruff, “let’s go.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enter Tony and his ability to make people want to hit him!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok kinda a boring chapter but I HATE writing so much dialogue so please excuse both how long this took and any potholes :)

So Barnes didn’t really like the quinjet. Which okay, fair. Clint would also find it weird to go from riding in shitty tanks that could fall apart at any second to a turn of the century elite model jet that Tony designed with his insane genius brain. He would probably also freak out when the thing took off at light speed and shot them towards the tower and he would probably also try to grab the closest weapon and shoot at Jarvis’s invisible voice. He would give Barnes a pass for those things. Afterall, Barnes definitely wasn’t having a gradual introduction to modern day America. 

Bucky however couldn’t find himself to be as forgiving. He had nearly taken Barnes head off when his 1900s self had picked up the gun Clint had accidentally left laying around. So, sue him, maybe he had let his guard down around the guy he was in love with, even if he was from a different time period.

Needless to say current Bucky was now very very pissed at both Barnes and Clint. In fact, he was practically turning red as he stomped off of the quinjet and Clint would be a little scared if he didn’t find it so hot. 

This little problem would only serve to get worse. If Barnes had thought the ride over was a lot he would be extremely unprepared for what happened inside the tower, or more likely who. Clint practically cringed as immediately upon entrance none other than Tony Stark barreled into the trio, voice and attitude working at ten times the speed of a normal human being. 

“Tony Stark, designer of that bad boy,” Tony nodded his head toward the quinjet that they had just exited, “that you tried killing by the way.” He stuck out a hand.  
Barnes was staring open mouthed. Clint was a little worried he might try and kill Tony. Most people do that when they first meet him. But, instead of acting on Clint’s thoughts, what came out of the army soldiers mouth was, “Holy shit. You’re Howard Starks kid.” He had put extra emphasis on the last name. Clint choked on air, and could hear Bucky doing something similar. Needless to say Tony’s dad was potentially a touchy subject, but how was Barnes supposed to know that future him would be turned into Hydra’s own personal hitman and kill Stark’s dad while he was at it? Tony glanced warily back at the real Bucky before seemingly thinking better than to make a big scene. For once his mouth stayed shut and he just nodded. Shit like that was in the past now thanks to the fear of America Steve put into everyone on (and off of) planet earth. 

Shaking off his shock Barnes stuck out a hand, “I take it you already have a pretty good idea who I am.” Tony’s eyes twinkled; devious. 

“Much more personable than you were when I first met you Buck-a-roo.” Tony said. Well yeah, Clint thought, I would be more personable too if I didn’t know that I was once a brainwashed homocidal killing machine. Bucky merely rolled his eyes. 

With that barely less than awful introduction Tony led them into the tower, hardly stopping to give Barnes and his bugging eyes time to adjust to the technology. That was the thing about Tony. He kind of just worked at his own speed. It lacked a certain grace in the empath area of humanity. Clint kind of wanted to whack Tony upside the head with his crutches. 

Opting for the safe option of keeping himself and his crutches away from someone who could quite literally ruin his life with a single button Clint fell behind Tony and his posey of Bucky’s. Weirdly though, he was soon joined by Barnes who had started taking slow small steps to stay with Clint’s stilted crutch supported ones. 

“So, is he usually this… energetic?” Barnes asked, cocking a head towards Tony.

“Yeah,” Clint huffed, “thats one way to describe it,” 

Barnes was wiggling his lip in between his teeth, smiling a little in amusement, and Clint couldn’t help but have all his attention drawn to that specific area. Barnes smile started to fade a little bit and all Clint could think was 'aww smile no' before Barnes asked, "and him" he looked over at Bucky who was still stomping ahead in his black boots, "is he always that angry?" Oh. Yeah. That. 

"Nah, I guess he's just a little tense today."

"Tense? Guy looks like he wants to kill me," Barnes was fiddling with the buttons on his jacket, something Clint knew real Bucky to do when he felt anxious, "hell he already tried to a few times."

Clint's eyes turned soft, "he wasn't actually going to kill you," he didn't want to reveal anything, for the sake of both the timeline and real Bucky's trust, but Barnes deserved to know the bare minimum, "he just has his reasons to be guarded... We all do." Clint looked up, back at Bucky and his crazy hair and the prominent knife sticking out of the waistline of his sweatpants that he had slept in. He smiled, "besides he isn't all that bad."

“Yeah.” Barnes looked sarcastic, “he seems like a real barrel of fun,” and okay Clint knew Bucky didn’t come off as the softest guy, but once you got to know him Bucky was, quite literally the best. It was silent before Barnes ghosted a fingertip over Clint's arm. The hair on the back of Clint's neck stood on end and he shivered as Barnes's voice lowered an octave, "and the arm.” Barnes swallowed, exposing the emotions he hid behind all of his arrogance, “that- that happens to me?”

“Yeah.” Clint answered reluctantly, feeling pretty bad about the way Barnes faces falls. After all he’s not immune to one Bucky’s charm so why would he be immune to any of the others? “You should probably talk to Bucky, uh real timeline Bucky about that. Not really my place to say.” Barnes nodded and cleared his throat. 

They both missed the annoyed glance real Bucky gave to the two of them as they turned the corner. 

The group passed through the main floor and onto the elevators, which was incredibly entertaining for Clint. Barnes had yelped when the elevator started moving, putting two hands against the wall, before looking around the declared ‘moving magic box’. His feet were shaky underneath him and Clint kind of though he looked like a baby deer. A very adorable baby sniper deer that could probably kill you. 

Needless to say Clint and Tony had ended up in a fit of giggles and real Bucky had actually quirked the corner of his mouth up, trying not to be amused by how much Barnes was embarrassing himself. When the elevator finally came to a halt and Barnes tumbled forward, whacking his face on the doors he turned to face them and breathed out a, “what the fuck is wrong with the future.”

Clint cackled and almost fell off of his crutches. Both Bucky’s really liked the smile on his face. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Little bit of a backstory here, and some more figuring out what the fuck to do when there's two Barnes in one timeline.

Tony’s lab was like nothing Barnes had ever seen before. It wasn’t just the weird technology or the fancy twinkling lights everywhere, or even the blue holograms that danced along the walls. No. He had seen that in the quinjet that he almost destroyed, and the weird AI voice that had come over the intercom. What surprised him now was the complete mess. For lack of a better word it was complete chaos. There was equipment piled everywhere, walls with ciphers and jars filled with weird liquids on every side, a sandwich with a single bite perched tediously on a stool and was that? Ah, a sock hanging from the standing lamp in the corner. It was clear that it wasn’t just any genius who worked here, it was a mad one. 

“Sit baby Barnes,” Tony commanded pointing to a chair at the side of the room surrounded in wires and what looked like an EKG machine from another planet. Real Bucky closed the door, starting to move through the room and pat at the different test tubes and graduated cylinders, he was warily watching Clint who was pushing himself up onto a nearby table with his arms. Barnes stood in the middle of the room taking everything in, although it was hard to see over Starks enormous ego, and looking indignant. 

“Baby?“ Barnes asked. He had started moving slowly towards the chair as directed. Tony ignored Barnes instead shaking his head at real Bucky who was inspecting a glowing, oblong piece of glass. 

“Put that down Barnes.” Tony barked and both Barnes looked over at Tony. Bucky grunted, always a man of many words.

As soon as Barnes got himself seated Tony’s hands were fluttering around him. He started to attach the previously mentioned wires all over Barnes’s body, poking at his extremities, and checking his pulse. Barnes was disoriented underneath Tony’s scientific gaze. In all honesty it seemed more like he was a specimen than a human being at the moment, uncomfortably shifting under all the prodding. 

“I happen to like the whole baby Barnes nickname,” Clint said it offhandedly like he wasn’t really paying attention with a snigger tacked onto the end of it. Barnes instantly relaxed, looking at Clint with a mischievous expression that teased the beginnings of a smirk. 

“Ooh I like it when you call me baby.” Barnes fired back with a wink and Clint's palms were getting clammy. At least Barnes didn’t sound so strained anymore but Clint was sure his own face was bright red. Behind them a graduated cylinder smashed onto the ground.

“Damn it, Bucky,” Tony swore, not taking his eyes off of Barnes who looked ridiculous with all of the wires on his face, “watch out and you two,” he pointed back and force between Clint and Barnes, “quit flirting, I need Barnes quiet for this.” All three of them looked sheepishly at the ground. 

The strangled silence that had come from Tony’s outburst was broken by a strong rap on the door. No doubt it was Steve, his fucking knock even sounded patriotic. Tony groaned and threw his arms up in the air mumbling something that sounded a lot like, fucking superheroes under his breath despite the fact that he was quite literally bemoaning his own boyfriends existance before calling towards the door, “Come in your highness it’s not like I’m doing anything important." 

The door bust open and Clint was vaguely reminded of the commercials with the kool-aid man as Steve walked in. He was wearing modern clothes, but still looking all the same like the classically lovable but sometimes a huge pain in the ass Captain Rogers. It was easy for Barnes to find Steve’s face and immediately relax back into the seat. Steve was as good as safety in Barnes eyes.

“Steve.” He practically sighed out, “man it’s good to see a familiar face,” he looked back at Bucky, “well at least one that’s not my own.”

For once Captain America was dumbfounded standing there with his huge muscles and blank face as his eyes passed between the two Bucky’s. It was unsettling having a Bucky staring back at him that was wearing the same thing he had when he had fallen off that train. “I knew it would be weird seeing two of my best friends in the same room but-“ Steve trailed his words and his brain seemed to shift gears, “1942?” He asked, directing the question at Barnes.

“Yup” Barnes responded, popping the ‘p’ in a way that bounced off the walls and the floors, in a way that seemed like he still had that inner child floating around inside his head. 

Steve’s eyes looked a little pained. Maybe he couldn’t stand to see Bucky with hope still in his eyes when Bucky now had gone through so much. Clint had to admit, it even hurt his heart a little. A lot. “That was right after I saved you.”

“You mean right after you turned into a giant with a big head and the idea that he could save an entire country?” Bucky responded, tone teasing. Steve smirked a little.

“Jerk.”

“Punk.” 

Bucky was standing near Clint, a few feet away looking white, his fist clenched on top of the table. Clint was almost waiting for another graduated cylinder to drop. The first time Clint had seen real Bucky tease Steve had been after at least a month of Bucky lurking in the corners of the Tower, avoiding eye contact.

Nat (who Bucky was actually pretty comfortable with - they probably bonded over both having the uncanny ability to look dead in the eyes), Clint, Bucky and Steve had been standing in the common room. Steve was cooking pancakes, flipping them onto the growing stack and more than likely hoping Bucky would at least eat something.

Clint was sitting on the counter next to Steve obnoxiously getting in his way and dipping his finger in the pancake batter. He could feel Bucky’s eyes on him as the other man slinked around the corner. The other sniper had just recently started acknowledging Clint's existence. One night Clint had slid Bucky an extra cup of coffee that he had accidentally ordered when they were both sitting around at three a.m, skin dark and loose under their eyes. Since then Bucky had taken to staring at Clint for odd intervals, eyes hooded and mouth silent. Now was one of those times. Most of the time Clint would just pretend he didn’t notice, busying himself with fixing the fletching in his arrows, or whatever else was in his hands. So instead of turning towards Bucky and staring right back he just continued harassing Steve and stealing his pancake batter. Steve slapped his hand away.

“Heyy. We’re gonna eat it at some point anyways.” Clint whined. 

“You’re gonna get salmonella Barton,” Steve reprimanded. Pshh. Been there done that. He dipped another finger in. “Clint! I swear to god I’ll put your bow in the compound and I won’t let you touch it for a month.”

Suddenly an entirely new voice spoke. A very masculine and sarcastic voice. “Jesus Steve, you'd think you hadn't had sex in a hundred years with how big that stick up your ass is.” Both the whisk in Steves hand and Clint’s jaw dropped to the floor as they turned towards Bucky. His eyes were twinkling. For a second there was complete silence. Then Nat giggled. Clint laughed. The brightest smile Clint had ever seen spread across Steve’s face. 

“Jerk.” Steve responded, and the word ticked up at the end like it was a question.

Clint nearly fell off the counter when Barnes actually honest to god lifted his head up and with the most beautiful smile Clint had ever seen said, “punk.” 

Now he was standing here in that same tower watching Steve joke around with another version of Bucky. The difference was that it came easily for this Barnes. It couldn’t be fun for Bucky to watch his old self blow through such a huge milestone for him like it was nothing, like it didn’t matter. 

Steve took the short moment of silence to clear his throat and turn towards Tony, a hand unknowingly reaching out to touch him lightly on the elbow, “what’s the plan Tony? What do you need me to do?” His eyes were all sympathetic, enough to make any guy go weak at the knees but Tony just furrowed his brow.

“Well," Tony was worrying his lip at one of the many screens, looking irritated, "first it’d be nice if I didn’t have to be interrupted anymore,” Tony put emphasis on his words, glaring sharply at the extremely talkative Barnes who was picking at one of the wires on his forehead. Tony smacked his hand away, “and you need to shut up, I need to run a few tests, I’ll let you guys know what I find.” Barnes was pulling at a metal piece on his ear as Tony started to get more irritated, “now shoo,” the genius flapped his hands at Clint, Steve and Bucky, “get outta here.”

Clint hopped off the table onto his good foot, grabbing the crutches and shoving them under his armpits. He started to follow Bucky out before he stopped mid-step and turned to Barnes, “You okay?” He asked quietly, looking around at the surroundings that were unfamiliar to Barnes and the now disgruntled Stark. Barnes smiled, a sweet lilting look that reached his eyes. He nodded and Clint walked out. The room was too hot to stay in anyways.


	5. Chapter 5

They had been sitting in the common room for about an hour now. Steve was pacing, a wrinkle between his brows and delivering a decently sized lecture to Bucky who was perched on a chair stiffly, avoiding eye contact with his best friend. For as long as Clint could remember Bucky and Steve had always gone head to head. It was probably the brotherly bond that allowed them to both get along so well and despise each other at the same time. Two super soldiers under one roof was a recipe for trouble, especially when those two super soldiers grew up giving each other noogies so when they did disagree it was practically catastrophic. Something usually ended up broken. For this reason, Clint had popped his hearing aids out, and was lounging across the length of the sofa. For the time being he could still make out parts of the heated conversation from the shape of their mouths. 

“So let me get this straight you pulled a gun — yourself?” Steve’s hands were flailing wildly. Clint almost wanted to comment that he looked more like a bird than intimidating. “—he middle of the night and I didn’t know what —, what did you expect me to do?” Bucky mouthed back. Clint sighed and turned his attention to the buzzing light against his leg. He fished a hand into his pocket and brought out his phone to see a text from Nat.

'Nat: Two Barnes?'

Clint hastened a glance toward Bucky and Steve. Bucky was red faced, Clint caught the tail end of something that looked like, ‘-int’s room — close’ and it looked like they where whispering now. Angry whispering. Clint tilted his phone to make sure neither of their freaky super soldier eyesight could get a peek before typing back.

're; unfortunately, v bad 4 me'

And then as if she didn’t already get the point.

're; its incredibly sexually frustrating'

Clint could practically feel Nat roll her eyes. Oh well. He had to let out all of his pent up feelings somehow.

'Nat: dumbass, I’ll come over soon.'

Thank god. Maybe she would slap him upside the head and stop him from drooling. On the other hand maybe she would scare the living daylights out of Barnes with her angry Russian and blank stares. Either way, Clint was very glad she was his best friend. It was always helpful to have a badass woman on your side and Nat was pretty much used to dealing with Clint’s pathetic excuse of a life. 

When he had finally figured out what deep shit he was in, you know the whole being in love with homicidal, super soldier Bucky Barnes, he had promptly called her, panicked. She was in Peru, working a case and had picked up the phone with a breathless voice. 

“Hi Clint.”

Clint was flopped over the arm of a couch, head lolling around upside down with his phone pressed to his ear. He felt really sweaty and a little bit like he was going to throw up. “Nat I’m in trouble. I mean it. I think this is actually the worst thing that has happened to me-that I’ve done I-“

She cut him off, “you figured out you’re in love with Bucky.” It was more of a statement than a question. 

Clint turned right side up, socked feet underneath him. God this woman was going to be the death of him, “what? I-How did you know? Why didn’t you tell me?” He heard someone scream in the background. “Are you killing someone?” Nat sighed. 

“Listen. I’ll be home soon. We can discuss this and the fact that I’ve already known for months when I get there,” there was a massive crash from her end of the line as she paused, “try not to freak out too much, okay? It’s going to be fine.”

So yeah. Nat knew about the Bucky fiasco before Clint himself even did and because she was such an amazing perfect best friend Clint barely had to ask before Nat was by his side, consoling him in her own weird emotionally stunted way. 

He tapped a quick response out and shoved his phone back in his pocket, before putting his ears back in. 

“Oh my god you didn’t have your hearing aids in the whole time?” Bucky asked. Clint looked over, realizing both Bucky and Steve were staring at him. Ugh. 

“What?” Clint drew out the word. “You want me to yell about this too?” He loved being the epitome of chaotic neutral and so he continued despite the blatant eye rolls he received, “Ooh we can see how loud we can get. Winner gets to pick the movie this weekend.” He pointedly directed the sentence towards Steve, who he could usually feel vibrating the walls when he got mad enough. Bucky huffed, shoulders moving up and down dramatically, but Clint could see the corner of his mouth twitch towards a smile. Hell yeah. Score for Clint. The other man hadn’t smiled once since Barnes had gotten here and Clint figured at some point he would have to exercise the muscles in his face. 

Steve gave Clint his disappointed dad look before seemingly resigning from his temper tantrum, “I’m gonna go check on Tony,” He said, promptly turning on his heels and heading towards the lab.

“Give him a kiss for me” Clint called after Steves departing dorito shaped back. This time he got a soft chuckle from Barnes and the room lapsed into silence. Clint was the one to break it.

“How are you doing with all… this?” He tried to make a vague gesture around the room but ended up aborting the movement and instead making an awkward sort of swaying motion with his hand. The awkwardness between the two of them was still palpable, and he wished he had dog cops commentary running in the background to fill the pauses. 

“Figured you’d be asking Barnes that.” Bucky responded and now he wasn’t looking Clint in the eyes. He knew it probably couldn’t be that easy for Bucky to see Barnes acting all friendly, like nothing was wrong, because between Barnes and Clint nothing was wrong. Still, it didn’t warrant Bucky being pouty that Clint was returning the kindness. Sure as hell didn’t help that no one else was really extending Barnes that same offer, specifically one certain metal handed grump.

Hesitantly, because Clint still didn't really know where the two of them stood, Clint asked, “Why don’t you like him?” Another pause. 

Bucky was still looking down, and Clint thought back to the first couple of weeks when he would hunch in on himself, hair hanging over his face like it was some sort of protective shield, “He’s just- he reminds me of the fact that I used to be like that, all happy and full of hope and I just- I went through all this shit I-“ he stopped searching for what to say next but Clint stopped him.

“I get it.” Because he did. He would give anything to be the Clint before Ronin and Loki and all the fucked up shit he went through, but having to share a space with that same Clint? He wouldn’t be surprised if he broke the obnoxious fuckers nose. Maybe Bucky’s grumpiness and the fact that he kept trying to kill other Barnes had some sort of wobbly foundation. Clint shifted in his seat so that the leather of the couch unstuck itself from the skin of his forearm, "I wouldn't like looking at me when I still felt like I could be something else either," Bucky looked at Clint then, almost pained and pinched, like he wanted to reach out to Clint but couldn't. Clint couldn't help but think that they were and had always been similar enough to understand what each other was saying. Same shitty backstory and all that. The room lapsed into silence. Clint wished he could hug Bucky, but something about the tense line of his shoulder told him to stay put. In the other room past Bucky was waiting, probably with a dopey smile on his face and a reaction time that wasn't hair trigger like the guy sitting next to him. He figured things would alway seemed easier when you weren't a homicidal HYDRA weapon with a metal arm.


	6. Chapter 6

“Well?” Bucky had two fingers pinched at the bridge of his nose, breathing heavily. They had headed back to the lab, after several hours of sitting in emotionally stunted silence and Clint pretending that the universe wasn’t falling out from under his own two feet - or one foot. When Tony finally popped his head out to call the better part of the avengers team (aka anything involving Clint Barton) back into his laboratory Clint had managed to relatively still his heartbeat, enough so that _someone’s_ insane supersoldier hearing wouldn’t pick up on the tiny blips and nerves. 

“Use your words sweetie.” Tony responded, unceremoniously pulling the wires off of a complaining Barnes with too short hair. Oh Tony. He really was just asking to get a metal plated backhand one of these days.

“Well,” the word was hard, punctuated as Bucky spoke, “can we fix it?” 

Tony put his hands on his hips, glasses hanging low on his nose, looking a little too much like a disgruntled grandma, “Relax terminator. not all of life’s problems can be solved overnight.” Tony’s expression turned resigned as he finished his statement, “not right now, no.”

At that Barnes raised two eyebrows while Bucky sighed in response. The tense line of his spine was back, making him look much older and more serious than the Barnes in the chair. This would be an alien invasion they couldn’t fight with arrows and guns. No. They had to wait this one out. And Clint had never been patient.

“So what do we do now?” It was Steve who voiced the overall concern, the white elephant in the room. What would they do with two Bucky’s? Where would Barnes sleep, or live and what would they do if anyone from the public saw him? How do you even entertain someone from the 1900s? It was all too much, even for Clint who had fought honest to god slugs coming from the sky and spent seven years in the fucking circus. 

Tony looked conflicted before turning to his boyfriend, “Steve, sweetheart, love of my life,” behind him Clint watched Barnes mouth questions to Clint, the word sweetheart hot on his tongue and deciphered easily by ears that had grown up without the luxury of sound. Clint ticked up his mouth in what he hoped was a vaguely comforting expression and shrugged his shoulders. Steve and Tony’s very intimate relationship and vigorous sex life was decidedly not something he would be discussing with this new Bucky, no matter how confused it made him, “Why don’t you take Barnes- uh- the one who hasn’t tried to murder me in my sleep,” Bucky made an indignant noise at that but Tony plowed through, “and show him around, let him play with some twenty first century knick knacks, I gotta have a few words with scary eyes here,” He nudged his head towards Bucky, who repeated the same noise he had made seconds before. 

“Uh do you want me to leave or..” Clint shot a thumb towards the door, a crutch still hesitantly placed underneath him. 

“Nah sit tight songbird, I just needed to get WW2 outta here,” Tony started to shove a few extraneous objects in random places. How he ended up finding the things he actually needed Clint had no idea. “In fact I probably gotta go through this with all of you guys.”

Bucky’s voice was gruff as he started playing with more knick knacks that Tony had left lying around, most likely trying to annoy the tin man, “Go through what?”

Tony folded his hands neatly behind him, “rules,” 

“Rules?” Clint repeated. God he hated rules. 

“Listen if you don’t want to fuck up the entirety of history we’re all gonna need to understand a few things. So, don’t give him any information you don’t have to,” Tony said looking pointedly at Bucky, then swiveling towards Clint. Which okay, rude, as if Clint would ever do anything that could potentially explode life as they knew it. Nope. He definitely would never do that, “anything you say could potentially mess up our current timeline, and it would one hundred percent change who you end up being. If you even ended up existing in the 21st century that is,” Stark fumbled with the phone in his hand, probably sending off some email for a charity that Piper roped him into, “who knows maybe you would avoid this whole transformer shit” he gestured at the arm, “and grow old in your two bedroom cabin with mini Bucky’s and a sweet little housewife,” The statement made Clint feel sluggish, like he had been dunked under cold water and was just regaining the feeling in his fingertips. Maybe Bucky did want that. Maybe he should have that. 

“Trust me Stark. I barely even want to be in the same room as the guy,” Bucky shuddered instead not even blinking at the idea of something normal, “besides, this timelines not all that bad,” Clint almost missed the strangely meaningful set of his face as he briefly turned towards the archer. 

Something solid settled at the base of his chest, pulling against what was left of his mangled heart, and trying to form something in his mouth other than please stay here, with me, he said, “and uh while we’re at it maybe we hold off on the whole threatening to kill past you?”

“He makes a good point,” Tony snarked right back, breaking the softness of the moment. And because Bucky was a disgruntled, super soldier who spent half of his life being controlled by HYDRA he sent them both an exasperated, deadpan stare. Clint wasn’t all too convinced the message had gotten through to him, but at least he wasn’t actively reaching for his gun. 

“So now we just wait?” Clint licked his lips, summarizing. The surprising nature of their lives was numbing the harshness of his ankle. 

“You catch on slow for someone who’s supposed to notice details,” Tony retorted. Clint had to tamp down on the urge to throw his crutches at him again, “yeah. There’s nothing else you two can do, especially with that bum leg of yours,” Tony gestured towards Clint, “so sit tight, and just try not to get all homicidal,” Then Tony was pushing them back out of the lab, closing the door and probably not listening when Clint called out,

“No promises when you’re involved,” Silence answered him, leaving Clint delightfully? No, that was probably his heart boner talking, unfortunately, alone again with Bucky. Sometimes he wondered if Tony was deliberately trying to make his life horrible.

It was oddly, peacefully silent for a moment - something hard to find when Clint was involved before he spoke, “so,” the word trailed long and awkward, and Bucky jerked a stiff neck upwards, “you doing okay?” Bucky seemed to jerk more at that, regarding Clint with wide eyes. Clint couldn’t help but glance away, wary of this uneasy relationship the two had. Sure, Bucky had been taking care of Clint, watching him like a hawk for the better part of a week, but that didn’t change Clint’s position in his life. 

Clint was, and would always be a teammate to Bucky. Some extra muscle that they could throw on top, use as bait. Someone that they didn’t want hurt because he wouldn’t perform as well, and that was the only reason Bucky had even volunteered to be stuck in Clint’s gross, tiny apartment. 

“I’m fine,” Bucky’s voice was deep and when had he gotten closer to Clint? “Are you?”

Clint took a heavy breath, embarrassed by the way it came out jilted, and how he knew Bucky could hear it, but god the man’s eyes were beautiful, and soft, and Clint wanted nothing more than to kiss him, “I’m fine,” he said instead of grabbing him, instead of saying, _no, I’m terrified I’ll lose you_. Afterall everything went smoothly when Clint just pretended he was okay.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha shows up and to absolutely no ones surprise she manages to make the situation somehow both worse and better.

So Clint had been wrong when he had thought having Natasha there was going to be a good thing. So horribly, awfully wrong. Because as soon as Nat showed up, all predatory, and emotionless, Barnes for some reason absolutely hated her. Really, Clint should have expected something like this, because without real Bucky’s tragic backstory, the reasoning behind Nat’s impeccably harsh attitude and knife wielding skills would have been enough to make a man go into cardiac arrest. But it wasn’t fear that Barnes regarded Nat with. No. It was a cold, brutal stare that he offered her as soon as she had walked in and scratched her fingers through Clint’s hair. Nat, unsurprisingly, found the entire thing hilarious. 

“You look like shit,” She was sitting next to Clint, a socked foot curled against his thigh. Clint loved Nat, he really did, but right now, when she kept shooting sly glances between himself and the ominous corner where both Bucky’s now stood, he wished he would have left her on the roof in Budapest. Okay, not really. But it was the thought that counted. 

“A broken ankle will do that to you,” he shot back, resisting the urge to flick a bottle cap at her head, knowing it would only end in yet another murderous glare shot his way. 

Instead, Clint rolled his eyes, stretched an arm behind her to allow her to shift back into the cushions, “among other things. Any progress on our duplicate situation?”

“Nothing you probably don’t already know,” Clint responded and Nat nodded once, shortly, because yes, she probably did already know everything. 

Her eyes were glinting then, turning to stare down Barnes who if anything looked more frustrated, eyes glaring down at the point of warmth from Nat’s foot, “And I assume Bucky has already threatened bodily harm if his past self were to try anything,” At that Bucky huffed, rolled his eyes, and Barnes narrowed his eyes even further. 

It looked like no one else was being overly talkative with Nat so Clint took the moment to reply for them. Leave it to the deaf guy to make the conversation, not that he already didn’t what, with his hyperactive mouth and a team riddled by PTSD, “You would be assuming right,” 

Nat nodded again, without taking her eyes off of Barnes’ stiff form, “I don’t take lightly to anyone hurting my friends,” And Nat’s hand was back scratching lightly behind Clint’s ears, and he would have sighed if he weren’t too busy watching Barnes' expression shift from one of anger to something more light, more natural on his youthful face. 

“Your friends,” he repeated, and wow he speaks. Granted, Nat was almost perpetually terrifying to be in the presence of but that didn’t warrant the unkind looks Barnes had been shooting her way. Bucky whipped his head over to level a glare at Barnes, and Clint wished he had his bow if only to match the level of violent tension in this room. Nat nodded again, barely, and Barnes relaxed even further. 

“I don’t either,” he said then, and for the first time Clint saw something other than pure disdain grace Barnes’ features as he looked at Nat. Well, at least they had only one deadly looking Bucky now. Nat simply nodded for a third time, and Clint could feel the tension she often had when someone new encroached on her space drain from her shoulders. Apparently Nat had decided the only threat Barnes had to offer was the one against Clint’s willpower. 

She nestled closer into Clint, something she only did when either one of them were particularly on edge, “and are you two playing nice with each other?”

“I think he has something against me,” Barnes spoke, ignoring his counterpart and stepping away from the dimly lit corner to meet Clint and Nat in the center of the room. Bucky stood, if it was even possible more stiffly, because yes, it did seem that way. Before Nat had arrived the two had been whispering in hushed tones, or more like Barnes had been whispering fiercely at a silent Bucky who had looked seconds away from snapping the other’s man’s fingers. From his vantage point on the couch Clint kept a wary watch over the two, only jerking forward once when Bucky honest to god growled, and slamming his bad leg against the coffee table. At that the two had stopped bickering, both giving him a chance to right himself and shooting him what he could only describe as wounded looks. At least making an idiot out of himself could get them to act civilized for a second. 

At the present, Nat was now, grinning, sharp and feral and something that Clint knew meant trouble- most likely for him, “well he would. You both want the same thing,” she tipped her chin, eyes wandering in a way that could look almost wondering to the unknowing observer but that made a chill run down Clint’s spine, “and I see jealousy is a characteristic you’ve always had,”

At that Bucky finally broke his petulant bout of silence, looking a little bit like he swallowed a jar of sour candies, “Natalia,” his tone was warning. Clint floundered, probably gaping. Sure, Clint wasn’t the smartest guy in the tower, he would leave that title to be fought over between Bruce and Tony, but generally he had some semblance of an idea of what was going on around him. Now though, with the way Bucky was leveling Nat with a glare he normally saw on her own face, he was grasping at straws. He probably should have stayed home and ordered a pizza. 

She sighed, something between disgruntled and that weird huff of laughter she did when she found something amusing, “relax. The two of you need to figure this out because I will not play mediator,” and with that she was standing, patting lightly at Clint’s encased leg, “I’ll get you more advil,” He felt his ankle twinge painfully, suddenly reminding him of the way he was perpetually stuck being that one injured guy. God. Clint really loved her. Even though he had been thinking about how much less bloody his life would be without her seconds ago. Even though she was once again leaving him alone with the man (or men?) of his dreams. 

As she left, the room collapsed back into uncomfortable silence before Clint, because he hated uncomfortable silences broke, possibly making the situation even more uncomfortable, “So anyone wanna clue me in on that conversation?” he motioned towards the empty doorway Nat had retreated through. 

The two spoke at the same time, Bucky’s answer a resoundingly gruff, ‘no’, and Barnes a more kind, “I’d love to doll,” Clint sputtered a bit at the pet name, and that was what had Bucky stepping forward, luring him out of the shadowed parts of quite literally any room that he liked to pretend were dark caves. Seriously, the guy should have been batman instead of the winter soldier, “but I think I might get a limb cut off for the trouble,” He looked back at Bucky who was now menacingly looming over Barnes and yeah. That didn’t look like the face of someone you wanted to cross. 

When Nat returned with a, “oh good you two didn’t kill each other,” the three had found themselves back in the stilted quiet, a testament of how hard the next week, or however long it took Tony to figure this shit out, would be. Thankfully, with Nat watching his pathetic ass, Bucky had decided it was time to take his leave while Barnes was called into a backroom with Tony. Nat handed Clint two pills and he swallowed them, only briefly wondering how many he would have to take to spare him from the pain of heartache and the insistent headache that had started throbbing behind his ears ever since Bucky 2.0 had arrived. 

“So,” Nat started and Clint couldn’t resist the groan that came from his mouth. Because he knew as surely as the sun would rise in the morning, that Nat would never pass up the opportunity to turn her shit eating sarcasm on him.

“So,” he repeated.

Then, because Nat was going to be the death of him, but she was also logical and had a way more stable sense of personal relationships than him (despite her violent tendencies) she said, “you should talk to him, or- them,” Clint swiped a large hand over his head, effectively making a mess of his hair. 

“I already have,” He said flatly. 

“You know that’s not what I mean,” she pushed a plastic water bottle towards him, and instead of responding he obeyed, taking a sip, “Barnes is a flirt,” Clint hummed non committedly. Of course that had been one of the first things he had noticed about new, or rather old, Bucky. It was hard to avoid the coquettish nature of his person when he was hopelessly invested in everything Bucky-related, especially when Barnes directed his searing hot attention towards Clint. Clint was actually pretty sure he had spent half of the day blushing, “he didn’t seem to like me very much,” 

Clint set down the bottle of water, “well he doesn’t seem to like his own self either. I wouldn’t take it personally,” 

“He seems to get along with you well,”

Clint harrowed a glance at Nat, whose face was, as he expected, pasted over with a machiavellian expression, “Yeah,” 

She tapped a painted fingernail to her lips ominously, “I wonder why that is,” Clint wanted to roll his eyes at her perpetually mysterious aura, because if there was one thing he knew for certain it was than Nat resolutely did not wonder about anything, “it’s not impossible that someone could like you Clint,” and then Nat stood, leaving Clint to be a sitting duck for chaos and unfortunate arousal. He never did quite get a handle on the way she expertly exited a room, never letting anyone else get the last word, leaving it’s inhabitants feeling like they are missing something at least mildly important.


	8. Chapter 8

Clint decided to take a nap, because if there was one thing he could do well it was take naps. Not sleeping through the night, hell no, in fact, he couldn’t remember the last time he had the recommended full eight hours of sleep. That was why, he supposed, it was almost a tradition to find himself waking up in increasingly strange places, bleary and a tiny bit less exhausted than he had been an hour before. 

He was startled out of his twitchy sleep to the sound of disgruntled banging, barely even needing to open his eyes to know that it was Bucky. 

What did get him to pry his eyelids apart completely was a weight settling down next to him and the alluring smell of coffee grounds. In front of him was a steaming cup and next to him was Bucky, real Bucky, who had positioned himself entirely too close to the archer for it to be considered normal. He peered over at Bucky who was giving him a scrutinizing look and grabbed for the coffee, inhaling deeply. No cream, no sugar, just how he liked it. 

“Thanks,” he mumbled around the edge of the cup, voice slurred by the ceramic that now took up half of his mouth. Bucky in turn mumbled out words that Clint couldn’t quite catch so he tapped at his ears. 

Bucky shifted so that he was face to face with Clint, “Sorry,” and then, “what’d Nat say?” 

“Nothing that wasn’t just a little bit threatening,” he threw out, happy to see the way Bucky’s shoulders hunched up a little in a way that Clint knew was his quirky form of not quite laughter. Bucky slouched then, playing with a loose thread in his hoodie, and for lack of anything more to say on the subject that was his best friend he asked, “where’d you go?”

“Shooting,” Clint nodded, “was feeling tense,” Now that he really looked at Bucky he could see the way the line of tension had quietly dissipated, still there but a little less consuming in the movements of his bodies. He smelled like sweat and aftershave and Clint wanted to run his hands through his hair. 

Clint blew out a breath of air through pursed lips, making it whistle lightly, “man, I miss my bow,” His fingers twitched at the thought, and he wondered if this was what they meant by phantom limb pain. It had been weeks since he touched his baby because, and I repeat Barton I will not have you accidentally shooting yourself because you only have one working leg. 

“Only two more weeks,” Bucky said flippantly, and Clint nearly fell off the couch. He had no idea Bucky was counting the days until Clint’s cast was off, until Clint could walk on his own. Probably because that would mean he no longer had to make Clint grilled cheese at odd hours. Probably because that meant he would no longer have to pretend to care out of the kindness of his heart. 

“You keeping track Barnes?”

“Only so I can kick your ass when you’re fully functioning,” Bucky snarked right back, offering him a friendly smile. That’s what they were, Clint reminded himself, had decided on collectively; friends, and no matter how many times Clint prayed to whatever shitty God was watching over him Bucky would never flirt with him like his past self occasionally did. That’s what trauma did to you, he supposed. Took all the snark and sass and put anger in its place, and even if Barnes’ flirtatious demeanor was just a side effect of his cocky demeanor Clint would take what he could get. But with this Bucky, his Bucky, friendship was okay, no matter how many times Clint pretended he wasn’t trying to convince himself of something that could never be true. This was fine because Bucky would be his friend and they could maybe get back to the relationship that meant burnt toast at 3 AM and frustratingly short Call of Duty matches. It was alright because Bucky was grumpy and had a metal arm and so flirting was not something that would ever be on the table, even if it was meaningless. It was fine. 

He shifted a little further into the outermost side of the couch, effectively putting more space between himself and Bucky, “He’s a lot different,” He said, because he apparently had no brain to mouth filter. He just barely stopped himself from lifting his own head to his face in a hard smack. 

Bucky huffed, rolled his eyes, “he’s annoying,” 

“Kinda hypocritical because he is you,” 

Bucky pushed back against the cushions, shoved two booted feet atop the coffee table and just barely looking at Clint so he could still see the shape of his lips mumbled, “He’s too touchy,” Clint laughed lightly, just barely at that. When Bucky first came here it had taken weeks for him to even trust himself around Steve. He was hesitant and jumpy, and absolutely terrified that any moment he made would end in drawn guns and blood. The reality of it was that Bucky was actually one of the most tactile people Clint had ever met, curling around Clint when they were alone, pressing a fingertip to the juncture of his elbow, smacking at the back of Clint’s head when he said something stupid. He was almost constantly finding ways to touch Clint, and Clint (having a horrible sense of self preservation) had let the cybernetically enhanced guy do it. Or he had until Clint went and ruined it by falling in love with him. 

Clint knew, vaguely in the back of his head that Bucky’s arrival had been difficult for Steve. The Captain, who was usually casual in the way he moved around people, took care to step loudly and distantly near Bucky. Sure, there would be the occasional bro-hug, or pat on the back, and Steve was practically all over Bucky the first day he had walked into the tower, but anyone with a pair of eyes could see how hesitant he was near this hazy, murderous reconfiguration of his best friend. But they didn’t call Clint hawkeye for nothing and when he noticed the dejected look Bucky would shoot towards Steve, or the way he would inch close to someone before pulling away at the last minute he made it his personal mission to make the guy feel comfortable in his own skin. He had enough of his own experience in dealing with careful touches, and wildly enormous amounts of personal space after his own mind had been put through the ringer. 

The first time it really happened, Clint had slung an arm around Bucky’s shoulder, after a particularly vigorous round of shooting, hardly thinking of the way his fingertips grazed metal and Bucky had flinched away. 

“Shit, sorry,” Clint had said and Bucky just stared. Clint waited. 

Then Bucky had shook his head, looked up at Clint from beneath the shadows that his eyelashes painted on pale skin, “No I-” he shuffled closer, clapping Clint on the shoulder, “it’s okay. People just don’t really like touching it.” 

And Clint bewildered, and confused because that was an almost constant state for one Clint Barton had said, “It’s your arm?” 

Bucky’s eyes had turned soft, melting Clint in the mid morning air as he responded with a quiet, “yeah. It’s my arm,” before offering Clint a barely there smile that still managed to blind him even in its simplicity. 

Now, he patted a soft hand on Bucky’s shoulder, the one where metal met skin, because the metal had never bothered him like it did other members of their team, “Not everyone can be as antisocial as you,” 

Bucky began twisting his finger around the thread still in his hands, “do you-” he paused, seemingly rethinking what he was going to say. 

Clint stuck out a hand, gesturing for him to go on, “do I what?”

“Do you think he’s better than me?” and, oh. He figured that for Barnes, although most twenty first century things were nothing anyone could have expected, his relationship with his friends, or mostly just people in general was relatively intact, easy to work around. He could talk without worrying that Steve might refer him to another painful therapy session, gesture floppily without Nat reaching for a knife, poke fun without the awkward silence that came before the laughter. 

But instead of saying, there’s nobody better than you, Clint settled for the safer option of, “well I’m sure he’s not half as decent of a shot,” 

But life was, and would never be easy for Clint because Bucky was seemingly hell bent on being the bane of Clint’s existence today, responding with, “that’s not what I mean,” giving the archer pause. What was with all these annoyingly cryptic conversations he was having today? Someone definitely had it out for him and his inability to fumble through serious discussions that probably shouldn’t be broken up with self deprecating humor. 

So Clint sighed, thought about Nat’s plea (if it could even be called that) for him to talk, and for once he let himself be vulnerable, honest, “I think you’d be hard pressed to find anyone that I thought was better than you Buck,” 

The answering smile was better than an hour in the shooting range. Clint didn’t even remember that he was supposed to feel twitchy at the lack of a weapon in his arms.


End file.
